


Undercover Opposition

by IndilwenofMirkwood



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Completely Made Up, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndilwenofMirkwood/pseuds/IndilwenofMirkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson deals with a little jealousy when Melinda attracts some unwanted attention during an undercover operation. Set within my story, "What Makes Her Tick" and written for melindathecavalrymay over on tumblr!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover Opposition

He was proud to say that under the usual circumstances, he was quite a calm soul, though, of course, there were always things that riled him up and stoked his annoyance until it flamed into red-hot anger. Normally, he never reached that point and it had been quite some time since he'd gotten even close to that level of irritation, but he could feel it now, boiling under his skin and it was taking a great deal of his control to remain relaxed, to keep up their act that she was doing such a _stunning_ job of maintaining.

They were playing the part of the wealthy, besotted couple well, in his opinion, the two of them doing their best to appear like they belonged and so far everything had gone brilliantly, but just when he thought that their night of surveillance would go off without a hitch, everything went to hell in the proverbial hand-basket.

Melinda would have rolled her eyes at his melodrama, and even he, much later, would admit that he may have gone a bit overboard, but he certainly didn't feel anything even remotely close to regret.

Phil had gone to the find the restrooms with the promise of champagne upon his return, or at least that's what he'd said out loud. In all actuality, he was surveying the upper floor, taking stock of all entry points, and calculating their chances against the guards strategically stationed near the windows should a fight break out, but he had high hopes that the night would be completely successful.

Phil had been gone ten minutes at most, when he'd spotted her from the top of the stairs. Melinda had been adamant that she'd never wear a number like the silver, sequined cocktail dress she'd donned in their last undercover operation and so she'd gone a completely different route for the upscale gala they now found themselves in. It was purple, though that was a loose description, as the color was deeper than the lavender shade the tag had listed, it's hue tinged with just enough gray to be within her comfort zone, the color like smoke or ash over a field of lilacs as the material trailed behind her. It was the perfect complement to her dark hair and brown eyes, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination at what lie underneath and, though the dress was beautiful, it was the backless feature that had heads turning in her direction, his own jaw clenching at the sight of her smooth, unblemished skin on display and his fingers itched with the desire to touch her.

He was a lucky man, indeed.

But, unfortunately, she'd caught the gaze of a man by the name of Everett Hammond, a well-off British entrepreneur and their _target_ for the evening.

_“Oh, man, D.C., looks like you've got some unexpected competition.”_

Phil had tuned out the comms, but suddenly Skye's voice boomed through his earpiece and he winced as the sound rang through his skull.

_“Sorry,”_ Skye whispered before whistling lowly. _“He's some serious eye candy. European, suave with the ladies, loads of cash, an accent to die for, and single. Every woman's dream.”_

Phil frowned, trying desperately not to feel cheated by having exactly none of those particular attributes, though he was particularly pleased that “single” was off his list, he and Melinda having cemented their relationship a few months before, at Christmas, when she'd finally remembered his first declaration of love, to which she'd followed with her own. And though the rings currently on her finger might not be hers, it should have been enough of a deterrent for wandering eyes like Mr. Hammond's.

But Phil had no such luck and he watched as the man placed a delicate kiss upon Melinda's hand, before Hammond straightened, leaning towards her slightly to whisper in her ear, thankfully the one not containing her earpiece, and though she laughed, she stiffened slightly and Phil's fists clenched.

“Do wedding rings truly mean so little these days?” he whispered to no one in particular, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't really alone.

_“Holy fudge balls, D.C.,”_ whispered Skye in his ear, her surprise evident even through the static, _“You're jealous.”_

He groaned internally, cursing perceptive women through a stream of expletives in his mind. “I am not.”

_“You so are.”_

“Skye,” he warned, his voice imbued with a sort of fatherly authority that he couldn't help but direct towards his young charge, even in the midst of a mission.

_“Oh, fine, you fun-sucker,”_ she huffed, falling silent and he knew that she'd gone back to watching the monitors and if he'd been there to see it, she'd be milking a pout right about now.

Phil sighed as he turned back to the floor, watching as Hammond stopped a nearby waiter, slipping two flutes of the bubbly, honey colored liquid off the tray before passing one to Melinda, which she took with no small amount of false gratitude as she lifted the glass to her lips. Hammond didn't seem to notice, his eyes more focused on more lascivious tasks, his eyes openly appreciative at the beauty of the woman before him and Phil had no doubt that on a lesser woman, his attentions would have most likely paid off and led straight to a bed, but Melinda had never been the usual sort of female and, for just a slight moment, Phil almost pitied the poor fellow for his stupidity. Hell, Phil had thirty plus years of intimate knowledge on his beloved friend and she still managed to surprise him regularly.

Phil watched as they made small talk, listening through his earpiece at the conversation, his agitation blooming the longer he waited.

_“Stop growling into my ear and go get her back. You look like a maniac standing at the top of the stairs with your hands clenched and sounds that could rival a neanderthal coming out of your mouth.”_

“You're exaggerating.”

_“Eh, May says I get it from you.”_

He allowed himself a small smile before turning his eyes back to Melinda, listening as Hammond continued to speak.

“So tell me, what's a lovely lady, such as yourself, doing alone at a gala like this?”

Melinda smirked as she toyed with the stem of her glass in an effort to look more relaxed.

“Oh, I'm not alone. I'm merely waiting on my husband to return,” she told him, her eyes glancing about the room in an attempt to locate her errant lover in the crowd.

If Phil thought the mention of her husband might turn him away, he was certainly disappointed when the man merely continued as though he'd already succeeded in capturing Melinda's attentions, paying no mind to the jewelry adorning her fingers and far too much to the swell of her chest as he stroked her arm. “Well, he should be ashamed to keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“Oh, no harm done,” Melinda informed him, taking a subtle step in the opposite direction. “He should be back momentarily.”

To anyone else, her voice was perfectly calm, but Phil could hear the underlying edge that it adopted when she was uncomfortable and Phil took the remark like the summons it was, heading in her direction as he descended the stairs. “I'm coming, Mel,” he whispered quietly through the speaker.

His voice through the comms seemed to soothe her somewhat and as he stepped back into her view, her face broke out into a wide, happy grin, which seemed to knock her companion off balance.

“There you are,” Melinda exclaimed in feigned surprise. “I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost.”

“No, darling. Merely distracted by a lively discussion on the finer points of vintage cars,” he replied, grinning when she rolled her eyes, before he placed a chaste kiss to her cheek in apology, his lips lingering far longer than absolutely necessary in polite company, before he turned towards her acquaintance.

“You'll have to thank Mr. Hammond here for keeping me company,” she prompted him helpfully.

Extending his hand in greeting, Phil may have squeezed just a bit too hard, but he felt a tiny jolt of satisfaction when the man flexed his fingers afterward, wincing at the pressure and Phil ignored the disapproving glance cast his way from his partner and, though Melinda had been engaged in the delightful game of small talk she loathed with a passion, he knew that she'd heard Skye's words through her earpiece.

Phil chatted amiably with the man, despite his irritation, all the while tracing his fingers up Melinda's bare spine as she leaned into his side. He couldn't help but notice the way the man's eyes had fallen slightly, his posture deflating at the return of the beautiful woman's “husband”, his gaze flickering between the two of them and their obvious affection as if weighing his chances all over again, and Phil could feel his fist aching with the desire to punch him soundly, but that would hardly help their cover.

As if sensing his anger and after exchanging the necessary pleasantries, Melinda led him away after excusing them both in the guise of a wanting a dance, and as he offered his arm like the dutiful husband it was all too easy to play, her nails bit down into his skin, her eyes hard as she turned in his arms before she subtly turned of her comms. She waited until he did the same and once they'd blended into the sea of dancers seamlessly, her eyes locked on his.

“Phil.”

He cringed at her use of his given name instead of his cover persona. “I know, Mel. I know,” he began before she could chastise him further. “Personal feelings don't belong in the field and I'm sorry, but he was looking at you like he was ready to devour you and as much as I know that you can handle yourself, regardless of the fact that I love you, that's not okay. Not to me.”

Her eyes had softened during his mini-tirade and his eyes slipped closed when she stood on her toes, using her hands on his cheeks to pull him into a sweet kiss.

“Skye's words got to you, didn't they?”

He cursed again.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a sheepish grin as they swayed, heads bent together closely, as the song continued, but before long, a smirk grew on Melinda's face, a peculiar, mischievous glint swirling in her eyes that he'd only seen a handful of times since their days at the Academy. Phil watched curiously as she switched on her comms and as she motioned for him to do the same, he mimicked her slowly, wondering what her plan could possibly be.

_“Oh, hey, welcome ba--”_

“You know, he's not my type,” she informed Phil, interrupting Skye completely as her hand came down to rest over the scar on his chest. “Yeah, he's handsome, but he's disrespectful, and his pick-up strategy is so cliched and, honestly, a bit creepy. Plus, his overconfidence is telling.”

Phil frowned. “It is?”

“Well, I'm not saying that he has a tiny penis, but I'm quite certain he doesn't know how to use it to pleasure a woman, regardless of its size.”

There was complete silence through the comms, Melinda's smirk merely growing larger because of it and he knew, instinctively, that whatever followed was going to be so very good.

“Besides, I'm quite fond of yours,” Melinda whispered lowly, leaning forwards until her lips were directly next to his earpiece, her lips just barely grazing the lobe of his ear as he pulled her closer, his hand still tracing the contours of her lower back lethargically. “You know just the right spot to make me--”

Suddenly, there was spluttering on the other end of the comms, as if Skye was choking on something, followed by a quick series of _“ewws”_ and a loud crash, and before the line went completely dead, Melinda was already shaking with laughter in his arms.

Not that he was fairing much better.

“Mel,” he chuckled, “I think you just traumatized our daughter,” Phil informed her quietly, his choice in using the familial appellation designed to help aid their cover in case anyone overheard, but, like most things, Melinda saw right through it.

“Ah, well. That's what moms live for, right? Besides, she makes it far too easy.”

He kissed her clumsily, as they were both still laughing too much to get a decent peck in, but he was thoroughly content, because Melinda's eyes were bright in amusement, and he relished in the beautiful sound of her laughter.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Mr. Hammond, their eyes locking across the room and Phil nodded in acknowledgment, before turning back to the woman in his arms, his jealously gone and his agitation soothed by her joyful grin and the playful glint in her eyes.

But if he'd gotten a little bit trigger happy with his icer two weeks later when they'd gone to arrest Mr. Hammond, well...that was neither here nor there.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd ya think?? Review??


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